


The prize

by belmanoir



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kevin/Rami, Kevin/Sami, M/M, Not Kayfabe Compliant, RPF, in-character sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>There’s a knock at the door. Kevin’s been puttering around the house, trying to come down from the high of his match with Rami. He grins and opens the door, pretty sure—yep.</em> </p><p><em>“Hey man! Come on in, I—”</em> </p><p><em>Rami puts a shaking hand over his mouth and pushes him back against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him—but softly, so as not to wake the kids. “Shut up shut up shut up, I can’t take your sarcasm right now.”</em> </p><p> <em>So not Rami then. Sami. </em></p><p>Set just after the 2/11/15 Takeover Rival match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The prize

**Author's Note:**

> For Sonia, my wrestling fandom mentor. Thank you for showing me videos and helping me with continuity etc! Any remaining errors are mine.

There’s a knock at the door. Kevin’s been puttering around the house, trying to come down from the high of his match with Rami. He grins and opens the door, pretty sure—yep.

“Hey man! Come on in, I—”

Rami puts a shaking hand over his mouth and pushes him back against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him—but softly, so as not to wake the kids. “Shut up shut up shut up, I can’t take your sarcasm right now.”

So not Rami then. Sami. Kevin shuts his eyes and shakes his head, wiping the grin off his face. He glances furtively around. “Not here,” he hisses.

In Kevin’s head, Kevin Owens’s wife knows. She’s cool with it. Even though it would be a beautifully ironic storyline if Kevin Owens was cheating on his beautiful beloved family— _you can’t trust K.O._ —there’s no way in hell Kevin’s doing that even for secret pretend. But if she walked in on Sami and Kevin hooking up when she knows they’re feuding, she’d want to talk about it, and Kevin Owens doesn’t want to talk about _any_ of this. He hustles Sami into the garage, locks the door, and dumps a mat on the floor, because fuck, he’s got some sore spots.

Sami goes down on his knees. Swaying a little, as if maybe standing just got too difficult after being slammed against the mat about twenty times in their match. His eyes are clear, though. “Don’t talk,” he says tightly. He gets his beautiful, scuffed-up hands in the waistband of Kevin’s sweats, the backs of his nails against Kevin’s stomach, and then somehow his mouth is around Kevin’s cock.

Sami looks so angry, so determined to take control, but he looks so relieved too. 

It kills Kevin how much Sami still misses him after everything.

 _Of course he misses me, I’m awesome,_ he tells himself, and tries not to think about how much he misses this too. He was eager to leave it behind and never have it again, to just be done with Sami for once and for all. He was ready. But Sami will just not fucking give up. “I’m so fucking sick of you,” he mutters absentmindedly.

Sami’s glare intensifies. Kevin raises his eyebrows at him a little because he knows that look and they’ve already had the conversation about how teeth in a blowjob is not okay even if it’s in character.

Sami pulls off. His hand takes over, slipping in his spit, and _Jesus._ “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what, you sucking my cock? Yeah, thirty seconds ago was a big improvement over whatever the hell this is—”

“Montreal,” Sami says really fast, and goes back to sucking.

A wave of homesickness hits Kevin like an epiphany. Holy fuck, of _course_ Kevin Owens misses Montreal. He probably hates it in Florida, that’s what all the talk about his wife leaving everything behind to move here for his career is about. He and Sami were supposed to make the move together, and instead Kevin gets here and Sami’s already settled in, seeming just as overjoyed about every goddamn thing in life as he was at home. 

His friend is a fucking genius and Kevin wants to tell him that but Rami would not appreciate it right now.

Kevin used to be embarrassed by how much this turned him on, back when they first started with it. Eventually he accepted that sex, like everything else, is just better with stakes and a story. He and his wife roleplay all the time too. Whatever.

But sometimes—sometimes he just wishes that Kevin wasn’t quite such a jerk, because he loves Sami and—he thinks of what Kevin would do if he wanted to touch Sami’s hair. He caresses Sami’s face, runs his thumb slowly up Sami’s nose and over his brow. Sami makes this _noise_ around Kevin’s cock, this longing, keening, sobbing sound. Kevin curves his fingers over Sami’s skull, gently, appreciating springy red hair against his palm—and then shoves Sami down on his cock so far he chokes.

God that’s good. He fucks Sami’s mouth a few times and then he’s about to come, so he pulls Sami off and spills across his face. Come runs down his cheeks. Sami shuts his eyes in resignation and takes it. 

Fucking beautiful.

Kevin stands there, chest heaving, empty, meeting Sami’s eyes which is not his favorite thing to do, and ponders ways for Kevin not to send him home with blue balls. 

Sami wipes semen off his face with his hand, which kind of just smears it into his beard. Kevin laughs at him. Sami’s tenting his jeans something fierce, and here’s the thing: Kevin Owens who just got laid is a lot like Kevin Owens who just won a title belt, smug as fuck and less touchy than usual, and right now, he’s just done both.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” he concedes, and when Sami isn’t fast enough to suit him, he ‘helps.’ 

He doesn’t actually rip the shirt because it’s new and Sami looks good in it, but he jerks pretty hard so Sami’s wrists get stuck in his cuffs, and then he crosses his arms and taps his foot while they both try not to laugh. When the shirt’s off, he snatches it and throws it across the room. “You’re wearing a fucking undershirt? Are you kidding me right now?” That he does rip, satisfyingly, and slams it down on the floor next to them in case Rami wants to wipe the come off his face.

Sami’s not thinking about that, though. He’s thinking about Kevin, who shoves him down on the floor and gets his hand around his cock. When he rubs his thumb across the tip, Sami’s hips come off the mat.

Those hips, that back arch, it impressed everybody in the goddamn room tonight. Everybody in the country. None of them get to see this.

“I must be the best you’ve ever had,” Kevin says. “That’s why you never stop crawling back. For the rest of your life, a fucking pity handjob from me is gonna be better than a four-hour hot tub rose petal extravaganza with anyone else—” 

Sami lunges up, impossibly far, and smashes his mouth into Kevin’s to shut him up. Kevin slams him back down with a hand on his beautiful chest. “Nuh uh uh, you can have what I say you can have.” But then he wants to. “Ah, what the hell. C’mere.”

They kiss. Kevin worries Sami’s lower lip with his teeth (because Rami seems to have no problem with teeth anywhere, he just trusts Kevin not to hurt him, which is...something), and Sami’s breath comes out in a yearning whine.

Kevin jerks back like he’s been shocked, and the look on Sami’s face—furious and bitter and uncertain and still so fucking in love with him—

For a second Kevin Owens actually feels guilty. Which no no no, and fuck Sami anyway. He backs away, down, pressing his nose and open mouth into Sami’s throat, down his chest, bites his nipple, yes, this feels right, this feels familiar, he can’t remember why he wasn’t happy. He just won the fucking NXT title belt, for Christ’s sake.

Kevin Owens pulls Sami’s pants down his thighs and the sight of his perfect erection with its cute little red curls makes him so mad he doesn’t actually trust himself to put it near his teeth right now. He’s pretty sure he’d get fired if he bit Sami Zayn’s cock off.

Kevin wishes he’d known they were going to do this so he could have put lube in his pocket. There’s no way Kevin Owens would get up and go in another room to get it. He sticks a couple fingers in his mouth and slobbers all over them. Then he holds them up. “You know where I’m gonna put these?”

Sami actually tries to spread his legs. He can’t, because he’s still mostly wearing jeans.

“I’ll wait,” Kevin says smugly. Out of the corner of his eye (he’s carefully watching the bite marks on Sami’s chest, not his face), he can see Sami’s glare as he unlaces his shoes, pulls off his jeans, and flops back onto the mat, knees bent and spread. The silence is charged and awkward, which feels right, and Kevin puts his fingers in him as gentle as he can without annoying Rami for breaking character. He prods around for the sweet spot. Oh yeah, there’s that arching back again.

Kevin teases him, making like he’s going to put Sami’s cock in his mouth and then backing off at the last second. He sucks on the tip and lets it fall out, laughing when Sami grits his teeth. “I’m just doing this because you have a nice cock,” he warns. “Don’t get any ideas. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sami, the fucker, snorts.

“Say it,” Kevin demands, twisting his fingers inside him. “Say it doesn’t mean anything.”

Sami stares at the ceiling. “I’ve never lied to you,” he says quietly. “I’m not about to start now.”

The moment is so knife-twistingly perfect that Kevin Steen is a little sorry no one else can see it. Kevin Owens, on the other hand, is consumed with plaintive rage. _Does he actually believe this crap he spouts?_ He pulls his fingers out and throws his hands up. “Are you _trying_ to get me to kick you out of my house? Do you actually want me to put you out the door and let you jerk off in your car like the _loser_ you are?”

Sami looks so fucking tired. “Please don’t.”

He’d rather pass out than tap out, but _this_ he’ll beg for. 

And Kevin can take it away whenever he wants. Just like the title. Buoyed by triumph, he shoves his face in Sami’s crotch. After the night they’ve had it’s not sweet-smelling or anything, but it smells like Sami and both Kevins basically miss this every minute they’re not doing it, so. He breathes in, noses around, and crams Sami’s cock into his mouth, as much as he can of it. 

It’s been a long fucking night. Sami shouts loud enough he would have woken the kids if they’d stayed in the hallway. He curses and strains upward, fists clenching. Kevin knows if he could see him, the tendons would be standing out in his neck and arms. 

Kevin gives it to him, wet and sloppy and getting his hands in on the action, because Rami’s fucking earned it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rami whispers brokenly. Was that in character? Ah, who cares? _Let go,_ he wills. _Let go let go let go._

Rami gasps, fights it, and finally comes with a sigh. Kevin swallows and waits for his cue that it’s okay to break.

Rami grins and flips him neatly onto the mat with his legs, gently collapsing on top of him. They lie there, exhausted and full of endorphins and about to be really sore. Kevin tousles Rami’s hair. 

“We killed it tonight,” Rami says with satisfaction. “You and me are going straight to the top.”

“Fucking right.” The end of the sentence goes without saying: _together._


End file.
